


His Boots

by The_neigh_sayer



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, F/M, Hurricane, Mild Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:01:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23825008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_neigh_sayer/pseuds/The_neigh_sayer
Relationships: John Marston/Reader
Kudos: 23





	His Boots

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



Your head lay on his chest, the slow, steady rhythm of his heartbeat nearly lulling you to sleep. His arm was around you, draped across the back of the couch, his fingers absently drawing circles on your arm. Your bodies were pressed closely together, and the heat from him felt so good on a night like this.

The credits of the movie began rolling, and you both sat up straight, stretching. John yawned. "Ugh, guess we gotta head to bed, gotta get up really early." 

You sighed then stood, turning off the TV & DVD player. "I always hate it when you go back. It gets lonely around here."

He chuckled. "I know, darlin', but it's my job. I don't have a choice."

Nodding, you wrapped your arms around him, looking up at his face. "Yeah, I know. It's just a long time without you, that's all."

He kissed you on your forehead. "Come on, let's go to bed."

John worked on an oil platform in the Gulf of Mexico off the coast of Texas. He was a roughneck, considered to be one of the most dangerous jobs in America. But he loved it and he loved the pay that provided you with the life he felt you deserved. His schedule was a rough one, though--three weeks on, three weeks off. He was due back on tomorrow morning. His time on was difficult for you, though you would never really admit to him just how difficult--you didn't want to burden him with your fears or make him feel guilty. He had this job before you met him; you knew what you were in for.

That night he made love to you like he always did before going back to work--slow and lovingly. He wanted to make it last as long as possible, because the three weeks without you were incredibly difficult for him. His kisses were tender, his touch sweet, his thrusts slow and deliberate. And afterward, as you both lay catching your breath, he'd gently run his fingers through your hair as you both fell asleep.

Your alarm went off at five AM, and you both begrudgingly got up and started your morning routines. By six thirty he was heading out the door. He had a long hour & a half drive to the coast ahead of him. 

You kissed him goodbye and as you turned to close the door you saw his old boots sitting by the door in the hall. You picked them up. "John! Your boots!" You called, holding them up.

He turned back to you and waved. "I have a new pair in the truck. Would you mind throwing those out for me? Forgot to do it the other day."

You nodded and waved goodbye, closing the door behind you. You held the boots up, looking at them. They were old and worn; he's had them for years--was even wearing them when you met. You felt a lump in your throat remembering it. He wore these boots a lot. Unable to bring yourself to throw them out, you placed them back on the mat in the hall. Maybe you'd do it later.

You went about your day, painting in your studio, running errands, cleaning. And so your time went, day after day. Five days after he'd left you were cooking idly in the kitchen when you heard on the TV about an approaching hurricane. It was still a ways out in the Atlantic and they didn't think it'd be too much of a problem for the US, but it would be a problem for the oil platforms. The projected path put it right into the Gulf and hitting the eastern coast of Mexico. And it was predicted to hit in a week; John would still be on the platform at that time.

You bit your lip, worry setting in. The only way to get in touch with John was by a landline to the platform--there was no cell service out there. You knew there were protocols in place in case of hurricanes. You just hoped it would be okay.

As the days wore on you kept an eye on the news, getting updates on the storm. It was getting closer and bigger--they were thinking it may be a category four by the time it hits land and the US was now predicted to get a good smashing from it, as well. A monster. And where you lived in west Texas was now predicted to get some strong winds and rain.

Sixteen hours before predicted landfall they said on the news the platforms in the Gulf were to be evacuated, but, when you tried John's cell, it went to voicemail. At first you just hung up, knowing he'd call when he could. But as the hours wore on, panic started to creep in, and you started leaving messages, asking him to please call.

That evening, even though you were hundreds of miles from the targeted area and landfall was still a couple of hours away, the skies were already cloudy, the wind picking up. You paced around the house, constantly checking out the window for John's truck pulling into the driveway.

Suddenly, the phone rang. You picked it up and checked the caller ID--John's cell. You answered and heard mostly static on the other end. "John?" You shouted into the phone. You could hear some talking on the other end, but the connection was going in and out. Then the line went dead--disconnected. You tried calling him back but got a busy signal. "Ugh!" You growled, restraining yourself from throwing your phone. But, if he called from his cell that was a good sign--he's not on the platform, he's on his way home. Hopefully.

You wandered aimlessly around the house, looking for things to occupy your mind, but it wasn't working. You couldn't stop thinking about him; where was he? Was he okay? You tried his cell again--this time it only rang and never went to voicemail. Suddenly you spotted his boots in the hall. A sob escaped your throat at the thought of him never coming home. You'd only been married a little over a year, but thinking about losing him now made your mind go dark. You picked them up and held them close to your chest, trying to will away the horrid thoughts running through your mind. 

You found yourself walking to your bedroom & sitting on the edge of the bed, still clutching his boots, the sound of the wind and rain dulling your senses. You're not sure how long you sat there, but the sound of the front door opening and slamming shut shook you from your reverie.

"John?" You shouted, standing from the bed, dropping the boots, and running from the room.

"Y/N?" He calls to you. As you round the corner you see him in the front hall, shaking the rain from his clothes.

"John!" You run to him and hug him, not caring about how soaked he is. You bury your face in his neck, breathing him in, trying to stave off the tears. "John, you have no idea what thoughts went through my head. Awful, terrible things." You clutch at him, kissing him, holding onto him with everything you have.

"I know, honey, I'm so sorry. They got us off the platform in time, but getting away from the coast was a nightmare; so many streets were closed, police were patrolling to keep people inside. Then my cell battery died. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you like that."

You placed both hands on his face and kissed him, then looked deep into his eyes. He could see the anguish in them. "I need to feel you, John, please. I need to feel you inside me. I need you to be my anchor right now. Please. Take me to the bedroom." Your eyes pooled with tears.

The look in his eyes was one of determination, devotion, pride, LOVE. He kissed you deeply as he picked you up and carried you to the bedroom.

He gently laid you on the bed and undressed you, all the while watching you with that same look. You couldn't help but keep touching him--you needed to know he was there with you, that he was real. He quickly shrugged out of his clothes, then climbed onto the bed and on top of you, settling between your legs. You immediately wrapped your legs around him, digging your fingers into his back, trying to keep him as close as possible. He dipped his hips forward and slipped into you; sighing, you closed your eyes, letting the tears fall. Then he breathed your name and kissed you. 

He was home.


End file.
